


O5

by reaperion



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Multiverse Theory, There shall be smut, don't question me dammit, more tags may be added, smut has been written, this will go on for a while, violence will come late, well known doctors are O5 council
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-08-16 17:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaperion/pseuds/reaperion
Summary: An SCP researcher falls into our universe, hijinks ensue (if you know me from monster falls, you know my general style, if i'm honest, this started off as a book, but then i decided to keep it alive online because i have a different idea bouncing about in my head)





	1. SCP-3283

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is the file, don't try to look it up, you won't find anything, when the story concludes, the entirety of the information will be revealed

Item #: SCP-3283

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3283 is to be kept in a humanoid containment cell at Site-17 until further notice. The chamber is to be connected to a steam vent in case of attacks by hostile entities. The subject is to be provided food and water regularly, recreational items may be introduced into its environment as reward for cooperation with testing.  
Description: SCP-3283 resembles a Caucasian human male with medium length brown hair, approximately 1.92m (6.299 feet) tall. Subject has light purple scales bordering its face, approximately 2mm thick. Subject has large wings similar in appearance to those of Chiroptera originating from its shoulderblades, wingspan is 3m (10 feet), subject is capable of flight. Membrane coloration appears to be a deep purple with a red pattern similar in appearance to bolts of lightning. Subject also possesses a tail, approximately 1m in length with a 30cm extendable blade seemingly composed of bone. Tail is coloured the same as facial scales with a similar scale thickness. Tail is 15cm wide, turning thinner as length increases. Further investigation required to determine full skeletal structure. Subject’s claws are 0.5cm long and extremely sharp. Subject’s teeth are slightly longer than is the norm. Subject is sapient and sentient, showing exceptional knowledge of foundation assets. Subject appears to show limited reality-bending abilities, allowing it to form projectiles and weapons of ice. This appears to be achieved through draining all heat energy from chunks of air. This ability requires less energy if the air is plentiful in water. Subject also appears able to change its body into pure energy and, as the subject calls it, ‘flashing’ for short distance movement in a fraction of the time. Subject’s eyes are bright luminescent green with reptilian pupils. Ears are elongated and in the direction of the subject’s back and are very mobile. Subject also has 4 horns growing from its scalp, the rear pair crooks at a slight angle and the front pair curves at a smoother angle. Both point backwards in the same direction as the ears.

[O5 PERMISSION REQUIRED TO VIEW FILE]

Addendum 3283-1: [DATA EXPUNGED]  
Addendum 3283-2: [DATA EXPUNGED]  
Addendum 3283-3: [DATA EXPUNGED]


	2. Welcome to admin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the hijinks begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please know that the format of the thing is going to be that it's written in a diary for prosperity of information

I clutched the notice in my hand, trembling. I felt as if someone was playing the world’s most elaborate prank. 

Allow me to introduce myself. My full name is Onkin De Throdin Yowei, I’m something of a scholar. However, you may refer to me as everyone else in this place does. SCP-3283, don’t bother looking me up, you won’t find anything. My appearance in this reality was accidental in its entirety. Then again, you try backpedalling when a portal opens a matter of meters in front of you while you’re walking in the street. It was the last test they did with their version of SCP-2207, simply put, a knife which can cut through reality, opening portals into other worlds. They’d gotten a note from the Yggdrasil committee afterward. It had basically said that they weren’t allowed to open rifts anymore or face the wrath of multiversal management. Meaning that my stay here would be a bit more permanent than they’d hoped.

You may be confused, I understand, all this talk of multiverses and Yggdrasil committees, allow me to get one thing perfectly clear. The foundation exists to contain what the residents of this world call ‘Anomalies’, strange things that do not quite fit in. SCP, the notation that they use to describe us, can stand for a few things, ‘Secure. Contain. Protect’, ‘Special Containment Procedure’, or my personal interpretation, ‘Security. Containment. Protection’, though one of the more exotic interpretations is “Sex, Cocaine, Powwahh!”. Now, you might be asking yourself, “But who runs this? Surely this would take billions upon billions of dollars to run?”. And, it does. It’s run by a council. The O5 council. 13 individuals that hold more power in their collective hands than all of the governments upon this earth. They only answer to one man. The Administrator. No-one alive today has seen his face.

One of the Foundation’s biggest secrets is the identity of SCP-001. The one that started it all. Only the council and the administrator know it. You might also be asking yourself how it’s kept secret. That answer is amnestics. They can make you forget anything and everything. Even a nuclear explosion, one of the tests performed on the guardian angel where they tried to nuke it. It didn’t work and it ended up blowing up the submarine which held the rest of the nukes. That is thus far, the largest recorded use of amnestics in foundation history… well, as far as we know. They also maintain an online wiki, to serve as both cover and a way to keep track of all the SCPs.

I’d been sitting in my holding cell, watching television (what do you expect? I’m sentient and classified as safe, they aren’t exactly going to try to kill me… also the fact that I can decapitate a man from 50 feet doesn’t exactly hurt that), when a piece of paper had been slipped under the door by one of the guards. I swung my talons off the bed, they’d have to clean up in here at some point soon, my shed scales were starting to litter the floor. I picked it up, my eyes starting to read the words. They progressively got wider and wider. The note read:

_Dear SCP 3283.  
You are to report to the O5 council at their earliest convenience. Please look at the Memetic order below._

I looked at the fractal image at the bottom of the page (I’m not showing it due to the fact that if I look at it I fall asleep… partially because it would kill a human). And my brain immediately shut down.

While I was asleep I dreamed of a dark room with 12 figures cloaked in shadows.

The next day, someone I didn’t know opened the door to my holding cell. I checked the date, it wasn’t a testing day. He appeared to be holding some sort of book. I furrowed my brows.

“What’s that?” I asked. I hadn’t asked for any new reading material, the books that this species of monkey has written are actually quite good. I focused on the visitor. It appeared to be one of the doctors.

Allow me to explain something about the doctors of the foundation. They are all bat-shit crazy. Take, for example, SCP-666-J, one of the foundation’s doctors, who, through some series of events which has gotten him classified as an anomaly, manages to make a massive disaster of whatever vehicle he happens to be driving. One time, he went into an empty garage on a pair of roller skates, it ended with the garage exploding. He managed to turn “take this bus full of D-class personnel” into “demolition derby”. There are too many doctors to describe without going into horrifyingly precise detail. I looked at the shotgun on this one’s back, his mismatched eyes, the ukulele on his back, the general air of death around him. I decided to not irritate him.

“O5 council wanted me to talk to you” He said, motioning to the guard to close the door. Once the door was closed, he looked at the camera for a second. It then deactivated. My ears perked up.

“The book I am giving you is the diary, memoirs, whatever you want to call it, of O5-4. You are to be his replacement. This is the only time in Foundation history that an SCP has been allowed that near the O5-council.” He said.

“But who are you?” I asked, leaning forward. “And why me?”

“I am Dr Alto Clef, also known as O5-8” He said. I drew in a quick intake of breath before I could stop myself. I’d heard of this man, he’d put the witch child (A.K.A SCP-239) Into a coma after trying to kill her with a knife made of SCP-148 (or Telekill Alloy, one of the handiest things in the foundation’s custody), he’d only been stopped by Dr Kondraki, he had a special relationship with SCP-408 (the less said about the butterflies the better). Both had become nigh legend. “The reason we chose you specifically, is because you seem to be highly intelligent, even on par with the rest of the doctors within the foundation, especially that moron Kondraki. It’s clear that you were some sort of doctor within your reality.” He shook the book. “Think of this as your guide to the wacky world that is administration in the foundation” he said. I reached out to pick it up but he grabbed my wrist.

“I recommend you let go, Dr Clef.” I said icily. I started to lower the temperature on my wrist. 

“Just two things. The first is that I am highly skilled at killing reality benders infinitely more powerful than yourself. The second is that if you ever hurt one of the council, I will hurt you back tenfold. And, if by some miracle you actually kill one of them, I’ll have someone put 963 around your neck so fast you won’t even be able to feel it.” He warned. I was confused.

“What’s 963?” I asked.

“Doctor Bright. It’s all explained within the book. Come with me, I’ll show you to your new office” He said, motioning with his head. I blinked.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You’re an O5 now, you think you’re going to stay in a holding cell against your will? You’ll be given a role in this facility, you’ll be introduced to the rest of the council in time. You’ll be able to decorate your office how you want, you’ll be able to get your stuff moved to your office from here” He said, standing, casually fingering the trigger on the ever-present shotgun on his back. I stood, stretching.

We walked through the halls of the facility, past holding cells of other SCPs, I didn’t actively see any of them, but I could read the signs quite well. 106, 173, 914 and countless others in the facility. This facility had been subject to an attack by some sort of terrorist group recently, but, reconstruction efforts were going very well, with the help of an SCP or two in exchange for items in their cells. The winding halls were made of concrete, occasionally interceded with the sight of the odd doctor and other sentient and safe SCPs. They all looked at me oddly, since when does Doctor Alto Clef escort an SCP through the halls? 

We eventually arrived at a door which appeared to be made of some sort of wood. Perhaps mahogany? The wood was a deep brown, almost red. There was a plaque which read “Director of Facility”. There were no doors to either side, as far as I could see. Dr Clef opened the door. It showed an office, there was a wardrobe in the corner of the room filled with white labcoats on hooks and racks of shotgun shells beneath them. I couldn’t help my drooping ears, a marker of my disappointment. He pretended not to notice. He walked into the office, sitting down behind the desk, planting his feet on it. He beckoned me inside. I sat on the chair.

“So why’d you bring me to your office?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not my office, sight director is probably out on lunch. But, I know his password, plus, O5 privileges, so I can assign you a role. What’s your name?” He asked. I blinked.

“Onkin De Throdin Yowei.” I said. He typed it into the computer. A printer started whirring. A pair of small cards slid out. One of them was red, I could make out the words Level 4 Access, an ID card to show the other doctors. The other was black. It read O5 Access, my O5 keycard. I held both cards reverently. I could feel them bombarding my mind, inoculating me against memetic kill orders. 

“Those’re your key cards, don’t lose them.” Dr Clef said. I nodded my head. 

“Might I ask what my role is to be within this facility?” I asked.

“You’re one of the ever-so-eccentric doctors of this foundation. You will study various SCPs, should they need studying, you will use D-class personnel as an experimentation resource, and, due to your more… unique, characteristics, on that subject, can you breathe fire?” he asked. The question was so out of the blue that I was taken aback.

“Uh, yes, of course?” I replied. 

“Thereby, you will assist in the monthly extermination of surplus D-class employees. You are also to stay away from Dr Kondraki, mostly because he’s a massive dickhole and partially because he could possibly blind you.” He said. 

“Understood. Might I ask whether I get an office and if so, where?” I asked. 

“Your office is currently being prepared, it should be done within a few hours. You should probably take that time to read this” He said, handing me a note pulled from his bottom drawer.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“it’s the official O5 entry” He said. “It’s from the administrator”. My ears perked up at this. 

“Read it in private, there could be ears everywhere, both figuratively and literally.” He said.

I returned to my holding cell, head spinning with questions. I closed the door behind me, slumped on the chair and opened the diary of the previous O5-4. It read:

_Hello._

_Scratch that, say goodbye to your previous life. If you are reading this, one of two things has happened. One, you got promoted to the O5 council, in which case, congratulations, you have survived long enough within The Foundation to find out what 001 is. The other case is that I have died and they needed someone to fill the power vacuum._

_Allow me to start from the beginning. Some time ago, some men found some anomalous objects. Since then, Marshall, Carter and Dark, The Foundation, and The Chaos Insurgency formed. One sells anomalous objects for financial gain, one catalogues and contains them, one uses them as weapons and steals ours._

_You are a high ranking member of The Foundation now. You have worked with countless objects which do not seem to belong within this reality. A statue which moves when you don’t look at it. A lizard which is impossible to kill. A knife which makes people not notice you. And many others. At least 4000 have been catalogued thus far excluding the J, ARC, and EX series. Not to mention the doctors._

_SCPs, as they are known, are put into four main classes. Safe, Euclid, Thaumiel and Keter. Here’s how you tell the difference, think of what’ll happen to an object if you leave it in a box. If you leave a ‘safe’ class object in a box and walk away, nothing will happen. These tend to require some sort of input or wielding to work, or they are extremely cooperative. Euclid class objects tend to be more mobile, if you put them in a box and leave they can escape, kill their guards and run rampant. Keter class objects are potential threats to humanity. If you leave them in a box (good luck finding a box big enough) and leave they will escape and potentially destroy the world. Thaumiels are special, you can use Thaumiel class objects to seal the box. Take SCP-142, for example, also known as ‘Telekill Alloy’, we’ve used it to seal some of the psychic SCPs._

_¬¬The biggest thorn in The Foundation’s side at the moment though, is SCP-682. Also known as the ‘Hard to Kill Lizard’. No matter how much we throw at this thing, it just keeps on regenerating! We’re tried throwing reality manipulation, radiation, altering the constants of space-time, making bargains with extradimensional beings (turns out, the price would be too high), other SCPs! It. Always. Regenerates._

_You may be asking yourself, ‘how do we keep these secret?’, I kid of course, you know about our liberal use of memetoamnestic fluid and our extremely tight security. If you weren’t memetically inoculated you’d be dead right now._

_Described within the pages of this journal are what you ought to do in the event of a K class event. Or, more basically put, the end of the world, either through monsters, reality breaking, or some eldritch horror._

_You might be asking yourself as to why I’m describing these things you already know to you. The reason is exactly because of a potential K class event, this journal could fall into civilian hands._

The journal went on to describe contingencies, potential threats, even an itemized list of SCPs capable of causing K class events, also the things Doctor Bright isn’t allowed to do within the foundation anymore (all 297 of them) and descriptions of many doctors within the foundation. I’d have to look them up later for clarity. The last pages of the journal were blank. I suspected that this journal would keep on filling up with more pages as I wrote within it. 

My move from the holding cell to an office was surprisingly quick, some of the off-duty MTF units had hauled everything. I looked at the now bare room which had been my home in this place for about a year, sighed, and walked away.


	3. The Doctors: Kain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onkin meets doctor kain. hijinks ensue

The doctors of the foundation, as previously mentioned, are a menagerie of the weird. I would be working mostly with Doctors Bright, Kondraki, Clef, Kain, Gears, Right and Glass, with them acting as mentors to teach me how things work here. About a week after I moved into my office, a mahogany paneled room with a large desk and computer. I noted that the monkeys’ technology was a touch behind that in my own world. I’d have to open it up later and make some upgrades. I got a message on the computer. I checked it. It was from Dr Kain, it told me to come to him to see how we do testing on some of the riskier SCPs. Such as how they’d thought of me at first. I could still think back to the large group of D-class that had been put in the same room as I. They’d needed to sedate me afterwards. An unfortunate ability my people have, if we feel sufficiently threatened we go, for lack of a better word, berserk, until the perceived danger has been destroyed utterly.

I walked through the halls of the site, looking for the research lab in which doctor Kain was presiding. I eventually found it, it was near SCP-291’s room. 291 is a curious machine, it’s capable of deconstructing a living being, as long as it’s less than a meter deep, less than 2.1 meters long, and weighs more than 1.6kg. It places the organs and such into resin cubes, these cubes can be stored indefinitely and swapped around. Thus far, a human has traded one of his eyes for a cat’s, a woman has traded her reproductive organs with that of a pregnant Labrador retriever (not sure as to why, she probably switched it back… hopefully) and someone even swapped their brain with a dog, but then immediately requesting to switch back after an incident involving his body and the humiliation of a female researcher. That was a short deconstruction of what 219 is, the actual containment file is a tad larger, but, since you’re reading this, you probably already know what it is, don’t you?

I walked into the room, looking for the doctor. All I saw within was a dog. It was just… sitting there. I kneeled down, reaching to pet it.

“I wouldn’t recommend that” It said. I yanked back my hand.

“D- Did someone swap their brain with a dog’s again?” I asked. I’d speed read the file, I remembered snippets.

“No, 3283-“

“Please, call me Onkin, 3283 seems so… impersonal” I said, holding up a claw to silence him.

“Right, you will call me Doctor Kain, I read your case file, is everyone in your world-“

“Like myself? No, i’m a subspecies called _Homo Draconis_ , everyone’s a combination of something or other with a human. I’m an exceptionally rare breed though, mostly it’s more animal than human, I’m more human than animal. Though there isn’t a particular distinction between the two in my world. Your message said that you wanted to show me how we test dangerous SCPs?” I asked. The dog twitched.

“A ruse, my apologies, I wanted to test 219 on you, see how it reacts to your anatomy, plus it’ll allow us to study your biology non-invasively, otherwise we’d have to do a vivisection, don’t worry though, you’ll get your turn with 682 eventually.” He said. It made sense. I looked closer, he had a sort of light in his eyes, a gleam which betrayed a benign intelligence.

“But why are you a dog? And why in Kukulkan’s name would I want to go against your version of 682?” I asked. He twitched again.

“I’d rather not talk about it, and it’s a recent thing we’re doing where we test the other SCPs that have something in their arsenal that we haven’t tried yet” He said in a monotone voice, his eyes misted over, lost in memories. 

“Hello? Doc?” I asked, snapping my fingers. He shook his head. 

“Apologies, I get lost in thought sometimes” he said. I understood what he meant.

“Should I get in the machine?” I asked.

“If you would” He said, motioning to the machine with his head. I stepped into the machine, a human female stepping into the room to operate the buttons. Inside it was dark, only slightly illuminated by a dim red light. There was a plexiglass coffin, a meter high, 7 feet long, 2 feet wide. I lay down, I could hear someone pushing a button on the other side of the machine‘s walls. Blue gel started pouring from various sources within the coffin. Wherever it touched me my skin felt numb. A sedative in the gel most likely. The gel got into my lungs, my breathing was unimpeded. My eyes drooped and shut.

The next sound I heard was the grinding of gears. I was in another plexiglass coffin. Light flooded in. I blinked a few times. Something seemed off about the quality of the light. I made a small mirror out of ice. I studied my reflection carefully, something seemed off about my eyes. I noticed it after a few seconds. It was a few things, actually. The colour, they were supposed to be radioactive green, these were a dull shade of blue, the shape of my pupil, why was it so… circular? And the shape of the iris. It was far too small. They felt just a bit too small too. It brought on a stabbing headache, I wanted to claw them out. I was breathing raggedly. I dragged my claws down the walls of the coffin. I could smell the dog nearby. 

“Dr Kain.” I called, staring at the bottom half of my body. The dog came forth with a human walking next to him, she was holding a spare labcoat and trousers. She proffered the clothes to me. Her eyes were closed. I shrugged, I’d automatically wrapped my wings around myself to cover anything that might be exposed. I made a mental note to notify them about my… heat, once a year (note that a year in my reality is about 14 of your months). I took the offered clothes.

“What seems to be the problem, 3283?” He asked after I’d pulled on some pants. He moved his eyes toward the female furtively. It was clear that she was not in on my post as researcher.

“Who’s that?” I asked, nodding to the female.

“My daughter from before… you know what” he said. “Now, what seems to be the problem?” He asked amicably. It was my turn to twitch.

“All three of us know what’s wrong, and WHY ARE YOUR EYES STILL CLOSED WOMAN!?” I yelled in frustration. It’s considered rude to not look at a person while you’re talking to them or they’re talking to you in my reality. She opened her eyes. I was tempted to tell her to close them again. My own eyes gazed back at me. I clenched and unclenched my fists. 

“Now, 3283, let me explain-“ Kain started. I started to rush the girl, stopping right before I got to her to snap her tiny neck. Killing her would be meaningless, it would also mean that I wouldn’t get my eyes back.

“We needed to see the limits of your sight, since we don’t have any human agents who can hijack senses without lasting repercussions” the girl said shockingly calmly. I made a cube of ice around myself, forming a 3 legged pedestal within and sitting, 

“I refuse to come out of this box until you swear to return my eyes.” I threatened. 

“Fine, hon, could you get back into the machine?” Kain asked the girl. She went back in, was disassembled, I went in, was disassembled, woke up with my rightful eyes back in their places. 

“Never again. Understood?” I told the dog once the girl had left.

“Careful 4, I have resources you don’t know about” He said, a gleam in his eye.

“Hmf” I huffed, a puff of smoke coming from my nostrils. “Did you at least learn anything interesting from taking me apart and putting me back together again?” I asked.

“Your body is a bunch of enigmas wrapped in mysteries wrapped in scales and skin.” He said, shaking his head.


	4. Chapter Three: Doctor Kondraki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meeting with kondraki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll add which SCPs are mentioned in which chapters later, for now, enjoy

The next day, I checked my computer to find a message from one Doctor Kondraki. He wanted to see how the butterflies would interact with me. This confused me so I decided to pull up his personnel file with my O5 permissions. There were some things that were redacted that I can’t put into this, but the basic gist of it was that he was a loner, got along better with SCPs than other people, avid photographer, joined at 35, seems to be The Foundation’s primary go-to with SCPs that would be otherwise unnoticeable, such as the aforementioned 408. His camera was classified as an SCP in itself, it utilized parts from 143 (Japanese cherry trees with nigh-indestructible razor sharp leaves), the flash is made from 295s excretions (extremely flammable caterpillars, their secretions burn very bright, and very hot), its screen is made from a lattice of cells apparently harvested from 408, giving it a sort of hive-mind property when near the rest of the swarm, leading to a nigh infinite resolution. It had been built under the guidance of 698 (a jade turtle which gives advice as to the right thing to do, for example, you buy a gift for someone while inside its sphere of influence, 5 minutes 25 seconds later, you will hear a voice saying that the person would’ve preferred something different, or, if it’s what they wanted, the voice will be nowhere to be found) I honestly didn’t understand it all, but it sounded useful. I left my office to look for the lepidopterarium which was their holding cell. 

I walked for about half an hour before realizing that the corridors had been looping for a minute or two. I narrowed my eyes and reached out with my senses. The area around me was alive with activity. Countless life forms fluttering silently. I reckoned that I’d been had. My irritation was indicated by the electricity flickering around my body.

“Unless you want everything within a… hmm, 8 meter radius, give or take, to die within the next few seconds, I’d recommend you let me go to where I want to go” I said, the warning clear. Evidently that was enough of a threat to make whatever it had been disperse. The halls stopped looping. A man was clapping at the end of the corridor. A camera hung around his neck, glasses decorating his face, a decent beard framing his chin and mouth. He wore a labcoat, all the doctors seemed to. I recalled something on his file, one of the addendums.

“I’m guessing you’re the ‘King of the Booooterflies’? also known as Doctor Kondraki?” I asked. He winced at the nickname.

“Goddammit Bright, yes, I’m Doctor Kondraki” He said before raising his camera and snapping a picture of me. I blinked a few times, hot-dayum that flash was bright.

“If you are quite done blinding me, you said something about wanting to know how the butterflies would react to me?” I asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, they sent quite a large portion of the swarm to check you out too” He said, looking at the photograph on his camera’s screen. Some of what appeared to be green and black butterflies coalesced into a screen in front of him. The backs of their wings went black, the front probably showing an image of me. He nodded.

“Very nice, you probably shouldn’t threaten the swarm again, they might react… violently” He said, hesitating on the last word.

“So did you want me here for any reason other than to see whether your butterflies liked me?” I asked.

“No, that wasn’t the only reason, Kain reported that you were unwilling to go up against 682 and-“

I woke up in a box. The box had no windows and some holes in the top, presumably so I could breathe. I looked around.

“Which bitch do I need to kill?” I yelled. The sound reverberated inside the box. I sniffed the air. It smelled like acid and reptiles. My eyes widened. “No no no no no, you did not put me in this bloody lizard’s holding cell” I said. Small charges detonated on the corners of the box, showing that I was indeed in the same large room as the lizard. An intercom blurted out a burst of static before a voice spoke. 

“SCP-3283. You-“

“WHO THE HELL TRANQUILIZED ME!?” I yelled.

“What are you?” a massive voice croaked. My wings flapped out as I soared upward. I hovered, looking around furiously. 

“Wait, don’t I know you?” the voice asked inquisitively. The voice was indeed familiar to me. “You” It snarled, a huge mass suddenly appearing and charging at me, leaping through the air, a mouth like a cavern into a pink fleshy void. I flashed downward onto the floor. He sailed over me, crashing onto the wall. Faster than seemed logical, he turned around and charged me again. I flashed back up. 

“BY ORDER OF THE O5 COUNCIL I DEEM THIS TEST CONCLUDED!” I yelled. A small metal rod extended from the wall. I saw my chance and flashed onto it. I appeared in the observation room, panting. 682 was screaming. I looked up and saw the dog and the booootterfly king. Kain and Kondraki.

“4, what did he mean by ‘don’t I know you’?” Kondraki asked. So he was also on the council. How much of my team was on the council? I swallowed.

“That’s unimportant right now, why in Kukulkan’s name did you put me in the same room as that lizard?” I panted, pointing out the observation window at the still screaming lizard. Kondraki rushed me, pinning me to the wall by my throat. I twitched.

“You probably shouldn’t do that Kondraki” I warned him, staring straight ahead.

“And why is that?” He asked. My head twitched sideways.

“Someone evidently hasn’t updated my file yet. When my species perceives extreme danger” I started, I could feel the scales appearing from beneath my fingernails. “We enter a berserker state and eliminate the dangerous object. We can repress it sometimes, but we then need some time to cool off” I said, clenching my fist to try to hold it off. The scales were on my palms.

“Wait what?” 

“You might want to put me in a containment cell for a few minutes” I said through clenched teeth. Kondraki looked to Kain.

“Find a cell, preferably a few seconds away” He said. I could feel the scales on my arm. I groaned.

“No time, are there any of the butterflies nearby?” I asked, I could feel my torso changing.

“Some, why?” He asked in confusion.

“Get them to do the looping corridor trick again, make them show an image of you if possible. You might want to hide though” I said, my tail was thrashing side to side. He closed his eyes and whispered into the palm of his hand for a second.

“Done” He said. I could feel my skeleton changing.

“You might want to run and hide” I grunted. Darkness ate at the edges of my vision, the adrenaline was dumping into my system, Kondraki ran out the door, closing it behind him. 

“you too Kain, this isn’t going to be pretty” I said, holding my splitting skull between my hands. He bolted out the door in a streak of golden fur. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. The rest of the change flooded through me, it wasn’t pretty, my entire skeletal system cracked. I blacked out.

When I woke up I was in a holding cell. I looked at my hands. No more scales. I exhaled slowly. I banged on the door. I could smell Kondraki and Kain on the other side. I knocked on the door. It opened to reveal the two doctors. Kondraki had his arms crossed. Kain just looked at me accusingly, being a dog and all.

“So.” Kondraki said.

“So? Wait, did I kill any of the butterflies?” I asked.

“No, you didn’t, you resort to teeth and claws in that form, apparently. What did 682 mean when it said it knew you?” He asked. I sighed.

“I guess this couldn’t be avoided, as you may already know I came into this world because of your experiments with your version of SCP-2207. I worked for my reality’s version of the foundation, one of the high ranking doctors. You’ve already seen my ‘reality bending’ as you call it, where I’m from it’s just magic, everyone can do it. At some point, I don’t remember when, we decided to try it on 826, what you call 682, we figured that if we pumped enough energy into it, it’d overload, or some such nonsense, I don’t know what we were thinking, but, when we tried the experiment, 826 did indeed disappear, but two of the others burned out in the process. We figured that it was dead, but, apparently, it wasn’t. We’d just given it sufficient energy to break the multiverse barrier and come into your reality. For some sort of reference, 2 people from my world burning out generates a couple of thousand terawatts. Think about how much energy it must’ve taken.” I mused.

“So 682 is-“

“No. it’s not my fault. It got noticed in our world quite a while before we sent it. We speculated that there was some lab doing experiments on our genome to try to make us more adaptable, should something happen which required it. You want someone to blame? Blame them” I spat. 

“The lizard calmed down, by the way. After one or two hours it stopped ranting” Kain piped up. I stretched.

“If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I would like to sleep without blacking out or being tranquilized” I said, pointedly glaring at Kondraki. As I walked away I heard him talking to Kain.

“We’re going to need to make an MTF for handling that berserker form of his, aren’t we?” he asked the dog.

“Almost definitely. I cannot wait until he meets Bright” The dog said, chuckling.

“Wait, don’t we have files suggesting that 682’s related to the scarlet king?” I caught.

“It could’ve just been a multi-“ The sound faded as I left earshot  
 


	5. Chapter Four: Doctor Gears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meeting with out favourite emotionless doctor

I woke up the next morning thinking about who’d sanctioned my combat against 682. I looked it up. An addendum had appeared on my file. It’d been signed by Gears. I frowned, why was that name so familiar? I looked it up briefly. Wow. This guy was old school. Like, 1960s old school. It would be no wonder if he was on the council. He’s worked on about 44 different SCPs, including the clockwork virus (a complex prion cell which converts all biological components of an organism into gears, wheels, pistons, springs and other such old tech. It’s reportedly extremely painful). And yet the man was completely human. Unaffected by any of the SCPs he’s worked with. He also seems to be an extreme pragmatist, saying that if an SCP kills someone, that’s because it’s its function. It was an interesting theory, that if an SCP oozed poisonous gas, for example, that’d be its function, nothing evil. It could be extradimensional equivalent of spark plugs, or medical apparatus. I decided to message the good doctor. I wrote him a message saying that we needed to meet up regarding testing in future.

Our meeting happened in the Site-17 main break room which contained SCP-294, A.K.A the drinks machine. It’s basically a standard drinks machine with a QWERTY keyboard attached. It’s also capable of dispensing almost any liquid known to man. Or dragon. Or dog. Or cat, or any one of the plethora of species in my world. Someone even got their entire life story in liquid form before writing their comprehensive 650-page biography. Blood, bodily fluids, water in a liquid state at 200 degrees C. Acids too. I saw a man with a receding hair line seemingly waiting for me when I got there.

“Ah, 3283” He said, voice emotionless. I sniffed, he definitely smelled human, I’d heard some rumours that he was in fact a robot because of his emotional detachment. 

“Please, Doctor, call me Onkin, or, if you insist upon being formal, Professor Yowei. You got some money for the coffee machine? I want to try something” I said, eyes narrowing. He pulled out two 50 cent coins. He ordered a simple coffee for himself. When it came my turn to order something I thought back to a chain of coffee shops from my reality. I’d known one of the employees, after a while of me going there consecutively, he’d started making me something special. A smile tugged at my cheeks as I typed ‘Fahran de Yowei’s coffee’. The machine shook for a second before a cup fell into the receptacle and a dark brown mixture poured out of the nozzle. The scent hit my nose like a train composed of emotion. I reached for the cup with shaking fingers. I grasped it and brought it to my mouth. I tasted the brew. I had to struggle to not drop the cup in shock. It tasted just like my husband’s. A tear traced its path down my cheek.

“3283?” Doctor Gears asked, a hint of concern in his voice. I tried to respond but words failed me. I cleared my throat, drying my tear.

“I’m fine, it’s just… been a while” I said, voice slightly choked. He grabbed my arm, not forcefully, and led me away from the machine.

“Let’s talk somewhere where people can’t hear, shall we?” he said quietly. We took a corner seat, the tables around us empty. I sipped my coffee in the smallest of portions, intending to enjoy the drink as long as I could. The coffee was made with ingredients only available in my world so I couldn’t make it here. “So what’s so special about the coffee?” He asked quietly.

“It’s my husband’s brew, he makes it with specific ingredients. Which are unfortunately unavailable in your world.” I said. I’d finished about half of the cup. 

“I see.” He said slowly. 

“I have a question for you, Doctor. Why do you insist upon calling me 3283 instead of by my name?” I asked.

“It’s simple really. Most of the staff here don’t know you’re a doctor yet. Hell, some of them don’t even know you’re what you are” He said.

“What?” I asked. He coughed as if he’d let something slip that he shouldn’t have. My tail whipped angrily behind me, the blade fully extended.

“We put a memetic effect on your labcoats, it makes people see you as human while you wear them.” He said, looking me dead in the eyes. I was incalculably furious. 

“So you took away my identity. For the sake of very few. How many can see me?” I asked.

“Higher class employees, other SCPs, anyone with clearance higher than level 2” he listed on his fingers. I finished my coffee, stood, and walked out, tail still flicking. I couldn't even look at him.


	6. Chapter Five: Doctor clef

The next morning I got an email from Clef. All it said was ‘Duel?’ and a location. Hallway 99. He wanted to meet there. I ate and got on the move. I walked through the indistinct gray corridors, through doors, past doctors and D-classes probably on the way to their deaths, I spotted the sign for hallway 99. It also had a containment notice on it. SCP-953, sentient, highly violent. I opened the door to find Doctor Clef standing there, checking a watch. At the end of the corridor, a woman was sitting, arms, legs and neck in manacles, a semicircle of dog kennels around her. I stood next to Clef. He looked over to me.

“That, is SCP-953. Looks good, doesn’t she?” he remarked.

“Meh, husband looks better” I replied absent-mindedly. He chuckled.

“She ate two of our agents while they were trying to contain her, she can shapeshift too. Terrified of dogs, that’s why we have the cages around her, so she’s too scared to try to escape” he said.

“Seems dangerous. Why don’t we just shoot her?” I asked.

“Because we’re the foundation. Not the GOC. We’re better than the monsters we contain. We only kill the ones who can pose a serious threat to the entire human race, if they even can be killed. If they don’t pose a serious threat to major population centers, we will harbor them. You may have heard about my… incident with 239? That child could’ve killed us all with barely a thought. The O5s at the time had figured that they could raise her and use her as an asset. I tended to disagree. Unfortunately she had indestructible skin, so I had to jury rig the telekill knife. If it wasn’t for the damn butterflies and Kondraki’s antics, I would have managed to kill her. Unfortunately I only managed to put her in a coma.” He said, eyes downcast. 

“When we met you said that you specialized in killing reality benders. That means that you’ve killed multiple ones. H-“

“Another one was 531. That guy was a goddamn killing machine. He coerced so many people, well, not coerced so much as blackmailed. He started to believe that he deserved everything that we could possibly offer. He forced the female researchers to have… ‘relations’ with him just so that he didn’t get pissed off and kill the entire world. That just wouldn’t stand. I walked in as he was trying to get another researcher to sleep with him, told her to leave. He got hissy at that, damaged his containment facility a little, but I appeared to be fine” he mused, smiling a little bit at the memory. “See, he expected me to die at that. I appeared not to. I told him that the researcher was married. Didn’t get quite as hissy at that, still pissed though. I started smoking, introduced myself, put on some music, none of that nine inch nails stuff that he had, put on some Elvis instead, did you have Elvis in your world?” he asked, I shook my head, “shame, anyway, I told him about my 99 other confirmed type-green, that’s GOC code for reality bender, asked about his mom, he got pissy when she died, killed about 2000 people. We talked about his parental situation otherwise, he was starting to get pissed off, complimented his xbox, asked about Flaherty, he turned her husband from a 30-year-old into a 45-year-old because he didn’t like ‘im, started another cigarette, confronted him about how he basically raped Flaherty, he threw a glass at ‘me’, turned out, haha” he started to laugh, he was bent over double “turned out, it was the fuckin’ butterflies all along! We were at site-32, compliments of 120, it’s somewhere around here, but it’s a small plastic pool which can go to nine places, we went through there, we were on the goddamn moon!” He said through his gasping laughter. “of course we had to compensate the butterflies with a bunch of sugar water, though I do want to kind of ask how you managed to figure out that you were surrounded by the damn things when you first met Kondraki” He asked.

“Draconic senses, my friend, that and I can sense electrical impulses in nerves. Trust me, electricity goes a long way” I said, tapping the side of my nose. He chuckled.

“so. On to the subject of my message. You fence?” he asked, leading me away from the containment chamber.

“You know Dracanian?” I said.

“The hell is dracanian?”

“right, right, there’s only one sentient species in this reality, basically dracanian style fencing means that I get to use my magic, it’s really fun when done with someone else who can use magic” I said. “While the scientific name for my species in particular is Homo Draconis, like, you guys might be called Homo Sapiens, you call yourselves humans, members of my species call ourselves Draconans.” I explained.

“Well since I’m only human, how about no magic, do you know sabre? Foil?” He asked. 

“Vaguely, with sabre you have to hit your opponent from a sideways angle, foil is tap them on the chest area, right?” I said. He nodded. We stopped at what I suppose could be classified as a gym or dueling area. It was open, stretching out about 100m or so around us. Kondraki chuckled.

“What are you laughing about?” I asked, stretching.

“I just remembered one of the last times I was in here, I killed 316, lobotomized him 5 ways, prefrontal cortex, brain stem, heart, spine, and, because he pissed me off, one of his balls. We then launched him into the sun.” he said, looking into the distance.

“So why’d you kill him?” I asked, “didn’t you say that we don’t just kill them outright because we’re better than them?” I continued.

“Something about him felt… off. Whoever he came into contact with immediately liked him. Even Kondraki, after 316 beat him in a fencing match, he took it well. I beat Kondraki once and he threw his helmet against the goddamn wall. He also had contacts with some of the other SCPs. I figured that he was going to try to organize… something. He was also really good at healing and predicting what you’d do.” He said, shrugging. It made sense, group breaches had always been irritating in my reality.

“Multiple breaches are bitches to deal with” I said. He held out the helmet with the mesh face, the weird vest thing too. I put them on. He looked my arm up and down, appraising me for what sword size I could use. I formed my own.

“Hey, we agreed none of your magic bullshit” He said, sounding irritated through the mesh visor.

“Don’t worry, I won’t manipulate it magically, I’ll make sure it acts like a sword normally should” I reassured him. He grunted. As it turned out the, stances were the same. We had a few practice rounds. After a few minutes of that we settled into the correct stance. We bowed to each other.

Twenty-eight points total later, it was 14-14. The next touch would dictate the match. Clef was panting, I was barely breathing heavily.

“How do you have so much stamina?” Clef panted.

“Magic takes energy, as does flight” I remarked. “Tell you what, how about, we take a break, get some paint rounds, get your shotgun, and we make this dracanian?” I suggested. He considered.

“I can get behind that” He said, straightening. Thus, preparations were made, shells were acquired, as well as some protection for his torso, impacts from dracanian fencing tend to be rougher than human fencing. I spread my wings, launching myself into the air and hovering. Clef pumped his shotgun, the sound rang throughout the room. He grinned, he looked like a Cheshire cat in that moment, on a side note, Cheshire cats are a curious creation by your authors. We don’t have them in my world, but I’d had to learn your language somehow, so while I was contained for the past year or so, I’d read, starting with basic books, quickly moving on to more advanced material. “Tell me. Have you read my file yet?” He asked quietly.

“N-no, I haven’t” I said, furrowing my brows.

“My file says that the rest of the council are looking into my past with the GOC. My codename was ‘Ukulele man’. I carry around a ukulele in case any beings who prefer to use true names want to address me, my true name’s an A major chord played on a ukulele, ergo, ukulele man. I’m an inveterate liar, except when it comes to SCP related things” He murmured, stroking the shotgun.

“Your point being?” I asked. Quick as a flash he aimed the shotgun and fired. I flashed to the ground, landing in a kneeling stance, tail held high above my head like a scorpion’s. I grinned, the last time I’d fenced like this was with Fahran, he used fire, I used ice. It was a lovely dichotomy. I launched some gobs of ice at Clef, he whacked them out of the air with his ukulele. He reloaded his shotgun in one fluid motion, firing it again. This time I wasn’t fast enough, the gobs of paint hit me smack bang in the chest. I wheezed, my torso splattered with blue paint. I folded, hitting the floor. I groaned. Clef whooped, walking over and extending a hand. I took it and hauled myself up.

“Nicely done” I said, rubbing my chest.

“Not gonna lie, it’s been a while since I got to use my baby” He said, straddling the shotgun.

“wait, so was that a lie, or are you telling me the truth because I’m technically classified as an SCP?” I asked.

“The latter” He remarked. I chuckled.

“Not for long I’d say” He laughed at that.  
 


End file.
